How To Save A Life
by addieredd
Summary: "You did the best you could." "Then why is she dead?" Sherlock has to suffer an unimaginable loss, supported by his friends and family. (...and I would have stayed up with you all night, had I known, how to save a life) ONESHOT


"How is he holding up?" Mrs. Hudson quietly asked John who had just entered the flat at 221B.

"I can't watch this… I just… I don't have it within me to see Sherlock Holmes being ripped apart piece by piece." John said trying not to yell because of all the hurt, anger and sadness that had been building up over the past two weeks.

"Almost over then?" She asked, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

"Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. If she even holds up that long." He stated, sitting down in his chair and burying his face in his hands.

"He still won't take her to say goodbye?" Mrs. Hudson inquired, hoping that John had finally convinced Sherlock to change his mind.

"No. He believes that it's better for her to remember her happy and healthy. Not all bashed up in a hospital bed, slowly dying. I mean I get it, I do, but how is he going to explain it to her? How? Has he even told her how serious this is?" John sighed. He wished his best friend would do the right thing. But quite frankly, there was no right or good thing in this situation. It was something he never ever wanted to be in and seeing his best friend going through something like that broke his heart.

"I don't know. I put her down in their bed again. She said she wanted to smell her mom. She even insisted on wearing one of her shirts to sleep in. I think she knows. And it breaks my heart to watch her. I wish Sherlock would come home for a night. She hasn't seen him in days. I get that he wants to be with Irene right now, but he needs to remember that his daughter is confused and scared and about to lose her mother."

"Honestly, I think that's exactly why he hasn't been coming home. He is so scared to talk to her. And I can't even blame him, I wouldn't want to tell her either, but he is her father and she needs him right now. And I believe that she should get to say goodbye." He said, laying back into his chair taking a deep breath. The world truly was a horrible place. Up to this day, he had never realized how cruel the universe could actually be.

"Well, it would actually be funny if it wasn't so… Real." Mrs. Hudson tried to suppress a giggle. John knew she wasn't laughing because she actually thought of it as funny, but more out of complete and utter devastation. He wasn't quite sure what she meant so he just nodded, unable to respond in any way. Just in that moment there was a slight knock on the door and Molly peeked in.

"Hi there." She greeted them with a sad smile. "John I think you should go back now. No matter how hard he's denying it, he needs you there." She said, looking him directly into the eyes. "And Mrs. Hudson, I'll look after Ellie if that's okay with you. You should get some rest. You look very tired."

"Oh, thank you dear, but I'm fine. You should go too. He'll need some friends once it's over." Mrs. Hudson politely tried to reject Molly's offer. Truth be told, she needed something to keep her mind occupied with. She knew that once she gave in to her fatigue, she would have a small nervous breakdown.

John and Molly exchanged a glance. They both knew that Mrs. Hudson was just putting on a show for them. In reality, none of them was fine.

"No buts Mrs. Hudson." John said, squeezing her hand lightly. "You go get some rest. The next few days are going to be crucial for all of us. You'll need all the strength you have."

Mrs. Hudson only smiled and got up and without another word, she went downstairs to her own flat. Molly took of her coat and took her place on the sofa.

"I better get going then." John sighed, scratching the back of his head. He wanted to be there for his friend, he really did, but having a wife and two kids at home, made the scene he knew he would be witnessing almost unbearable.

"I called Mary for you. She said you should stay with him for however long he needs." She smiled lightly.

"Oh, okay, well, uhm, thank you I guess." He mumbled as he took his coat and awkwardly left the flat to catch a cab to St. Bart's Hospital where his best friend's wife/girlfriend/lover/woman/whatever they were, was dying in one of those white, clinical, disinfected beds he hated so much.

xxxx

When he arrived at the hospital, he saw Lestrade sitting in the waiting room area, face buried in his hands, not unlike John had been sitting in Baker Street about half an hour ago. He sat down next to him and he suddenly raised his head.

"I can't…" He just said. "I just… Not even through the window. I…" He said, his eyes teary. John had never seen the DI cry, not even at Sherlock's fake death funeral.

"I know." John just said, trying to sound sympathetic. Lestrade looked up at John again.

"He is holding her. Literally. He is lying next to her in the bed and holds her like a baby. I don't know whether he's singing to her or talking or whatever, but I've never seen Sherlock Holmes like this. Never." He said, with something that looked like fear in his eyes. John decided to see for himself. Assess the situation. Maybe it wasn't that bad, he told himself.

But when the window to her room came into sight he knew that it was by far the worse than he could've imagined. He wasn't sure whether to go in and wait with him until it was over, or wait outside and give them some privacy. Originally, they had all promised him, that once Sherlock took her off life – support, one of them would be in there with him at all times. But now, it seemed like no one had the courage to walk through that door.

"Dr. Watson?" a nurse asked.

"Yes?"

"You should go in. It'll be any minute now, and he'll need someone in there with him. I don't know him as well as you do, but he hasn't left her side in over two weeks. Someone should be with him when she's gone."

John just nodded and decided that she was probably right. So he took a deep breath, pressing down the handle and silently sneaking into the room. The sight in front of him tore his insides apart. There he was, the Great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective with the funny hat, as she had always called him, his arms wrapped about the lifeless body of the only woman that had and would ever matter to him. He was talking in a soft monotone voice, like he was soothing a baby back to sleep. He held her close, whispering into her ear, his forehead touching her temples. He didn't even realize that John had entered the room. John sat down in the chair in the corner of the room, trying to keep it together as he listened to Sherlock Holmes desperately trying to postpone the inevitable with every word that left his mouth.

"Don't worry, the east wind is not going to get you, I promise. I'll protect you, and I'll make sure no one comes and takes you. You'll have a good life, I'll make sure of that. No east wind for you, nothing like that. You just stay in my arms, I'm not letting you go. I'm here for you. I know I'm not good at showing…. Sentiment. But I tried, I tried for you. Because you matter to me. You matter in ways that no one else has mattered to me before. In all those years, I never told you that I loved you. I know you know though. You know that I love you, don't you? I'm such a coward…. I…."

John sensed that Sherlock was fighting back the tears as Irene's breaths became more and more irregular and sounded more and more forced. And he started again.

"Just stay, for a little while longer. You're safe in my arms, don't be afraid, I got you. I'm not letting go. I can't." He stopped again as the monitor started beeping rapidly, indicating that the moment was here. It was time to say goodbye. He was trying to be strong, to be brave, to let her go in peace.

"It's okay my dear. You can let go. I'll be here, I won't leave. I'm here. I'm here." He kept repeating the phrase, pressing her closer against his body, pressing a kiss on her forehead until her chest stopped rising forever. He froze. John looked up at him, tears streaming down his own face.

"Sherlock…" He whispered, forcing the words out of his throat.

"I'm not letting go." Sherlock stated quietly. John got up, walking towards the bed where his best friend desperately clung to the dead body of the woman.

"Sherlock… She's gone. Please. Let her go." He said clearing his throat. A single tear rolled down Sherlock's face. And it was the first tear in over thirty years. He didn't even bother to wipe it away, his hands and arms were too busy holding onto the lifeless body of Irene Adler.

They remained that way, Irene's body in Sherlock's arms and John standing next to the bed, not knowing what to say. To be honest, there were no words. Nothing he could say would make anything better. So he just stood there, silently, waiting for Sherlock to let got. After two hours he did. He eased himself off the bed, stroke her face gently and kissed her on the forehead.

"You will always be The Woman to me." Then, he just walked out of the room not looking back, John following right behind.

When they reached the waiting room, everyone, except for Mrs. Hudson, Molly and Elektra, his daughter, was there. They were looking at the two with expectant eyes, waiting for Sherlock or John to say something. It was soon clear that Sherlock would remain silent, so John had to say it and he hated Sherlock for that, even though he knew that he wasn't ready to say it.

"She's gone." He simply said, a few silent tears running down his face. Everyone looked at Sherlock, wanting him to say something. He could feel all the eyes on him and no matter how much he wanted to pretend, to keep his ice cold mask on, he couldn't. Mycroft and John both noticed it.

"I'll take him home John, you should go, see Mary and the kids." Mycroft said, stepping towards his little brother. He hated to admit it, but seeing his baby brother in a state like this tore the heart out of his body. John wanted to say that it was fine, that he would take Sherlock home, but deep down all he wanted to do was going home, hugging his wife and kids and just thank god that they were all okay. So instead of insisting on going with them he simply thanked Mycroft and asked Sherlock if he was okay with it and he simply nodded.

xxxx

The Holmes brothers were sitting in a cab next to each other. To be truthful, Sherlock was glad that it was Mycroft who was staying with him. He couldn't bear the pity in John's eyes right now. For some completely irrational reason, Sherlock felt like he had to say something.

"I was supposed to protect her." Mycroft stared at his brother in utter surprise as he started talking.

"Sherlock you…" He started. Now, Sherlock turned his head, looking directly into Mycroft's eyes.

"I was supposed to protect her. Why didn't I?" He said, the devastation evident in his voice.

"You did the best you could." His brother assured him.

"No."

"Yes."

"Then why is she dead?"

xxxx

"Sherlock…" Molly started as she saw him walking through the doorway. But he dismissed her with a wink of his hand, hanging up his coat and walking towards his bedroom, knowing that his five year old daughter was sleeping behind this door. And he was about to tell her the worst thing she would ever hear in her life.

"Sherlock?" he heard a familiar voice behind him say.

"John. You should go home. Be with your family." He said, trying to sound indifferent, but he was actually glad that he was here.

"Are you going to talk to her now?" John asked, completely over hearing what he had said.

"Yes." Sherlock simply said, still facing the door.

"What are you going to tell her?" John asked.

"That her mother is dead." Sherlock said with an emotional distance that sent a shiver down John's spine.

"Okay, well…. Good luck or something." Sherlock turned around and John could see the fear in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again and it was nothing more than a whisper.

"Who am I to tell her that she doesn't have a mother anymore? She's so tiny and I don't want to break her. The world is such a cruel place, and it's not fair that she has to realize that so early." He choked out.

"But the world isn't fair." John stated.

"But the world isn't fair." He repeated and turned around to enter the bedroom.

xxxx

He carefully sat down on the bed, staring at the little girl sleeping like an angel. He could tell that she had been crying because her face was puffy and there was a tissue on the nightstand. He looked at her long, dark curls sprawled out on her pillow. He noticed that she was wearing one of her shirts. The smell, he thought. He got back up and walked over to her closet and took out one of her favorite blouses. He knelt down on the floor, covering his face with the precious clothing item. It did smell like her. Just when he was about to give in to his emotions, he heard a little voice.

"Dad? Is that you?" He took a deep breath and got up, trying hard to cover the sadness in his eyes. But she could still see it and knew that something terrible had happened.

"Ellie. You're awake."

"Obviously." She said, looking confused. Her father wasn't one to state the obvious. Something was really wrong. He sat back down on the bed, stroking her hair that was so much like her mother's. Right now he wished she had inherited Irene's eyes, just so that he could look at them every day even when she was gone.

"I was hoping to talk to you." He started, not sure how to tell his baby girl that her mother had passed away a couple of hours ago.

"It's about Mom." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes." Usually he would let her tell him how she knew, but this wasn't the time. "Remember when we talked about the accident she was in two weeks ago? That she was very badly injured, you remember that right?" He knew that asking her if she remembered was pointless because she did, she remembered everything. But she nodded, not making a snarky comment. He saw in her eyes how it slowly dawned on her, how she suddenly realized where he was going with this conversation. He wondered into how many pieces his soul could be shred tonight.

"You have to say it." She said, the same cold undertone in her voice as Sherlock when he tried to hide his true feelings.

"You have to know that she loves you. Very much. And I love you too, I know I never say it, but I do and I hope you know that. We both love you more than anything." He said, his voice hoarse. He avoided using the past tense just yet. He couldn't say 'loved'. He doesn't want to accept it. And he hates himself for that.

"Say it." Elektra said in a pleading voice, wishing that she had made a wrong deduction for once in her life. Sherlock pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm sorry but your Mom died three hours ago." He said, feeling the tears in his eyes dwell up as he felt her hot tears wetting his shirt. Neither of them said anything. They just held each other close, not letting go. Both cried their silent tears, realizing that no good would come from anything else. After almost four hours she finally dozed off to sleep in his arms. He knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep but he didn't want to let go of his daughter.

At some point John peeked into the room to check on them. He looked at them and felt nothing but sorrow. He knew that for Sherlock Holmes to get to that point he was at right now, a lot had to happen. He met his gaze and Sherlock tried to smile but failed miserably. As John turned around, Sherlock said something.

"Sentiment. The chemical defect." He chuckled but it soon transformed into tears. "Never thought losing would actually hurt this much."

_A/N: This is my first Sherlock fanfic so be nice. Anyway I hope you liked it and __**leave a review**__!_


End file.
